The Problem With Trolls
by Amore Di Scrittura
Summary: The black beast held two brothers, silent but content. The two Winchester's had no idea where their destinies would point them next, and this place was definitely not what they'd had envisioned.
1. New Places

**Disclaimer**: I don't own... but that'd be cool if I did...

**Warnings:** Violence in later chapters, and minor swearing.

**Summary**: Sam and Dean stop for the night at a seemingly innocent hotel. Unbeknowest to them, there are dangerous creatures lurking inside the mysterious rooms and under the beds. Can the brothers pull together in time to save themselves?

Enjoy:

* * *

The sky was cloudy and dark, big fat drops cascading down to earth and splashing against the sleek black paint covering the 1967 Chevy Classic. Within the black beast held two brothers, silent but content.

Sam Winchester was in a place halfway between being awake and asleep. His forehead rested against the cool glass that would light up every few minutes against the bright light of the lightning above him.

Dean Winchester sat restlessly, afraid to reach over and turn on the radio. He knew his little brother needed his rest, god knows how often he actually laid down for a nap. But he, himself was quite content. The last hunt had ended well, no injuries to speak of and the older brother was thankful for that.

They'd taken off in the afternoon sometime, not really sure where they were headed but not really caring either way. They needed a break, needed somewhere where they could forget about their lives crumbling down before them.

Dean, from the ever pressing thoughts that he wouldn't be able to save the last of this family.

And Sam, from his future and what he'd be leaving behind if his brother was ever able to fulfill his promise.

Both were filled with mixed emotions but right now it all seemed too quiet and content to last long. It never did, and it never seemed like lady luck was on their sides, why would today be any different?

* * *

"Sammy, get up," Dean cajoled softly. After a few minutes of silence he prodded his brother in the side causing the sleepy man to jerk away.

Sam mumbled softly and pushed back deeper into his seat with a sigh. "Just a few more minutes Dean."

Dean let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. "We're going in there."

Sam pulled back his eyelids and looked over to his brother who was pointing out the window. A flash of lightning lit up the huge plantation that was standing darkly. "A little 'House on Haunted Hill', isn't it?"

"If anything it'll just be like the place in Connecticut," Dean supplied with a grin. The rain wasn't letting up and Dean was getting tired of driving around in it. "Besides, look at all the other cars."

Sam did look, and he was surprised to see the six or seven automobiles surrounding the vine covered hotel. "I guess," Sam sighed wearily, all he wanted to do was sleep, he could've even done it right there in the car.

"Wish I had an umbrella though," Dean garbled as he pulled his leather jacket up to cover his head. He turned back to see his brother doing the same thing. "Don't forget our bags Sammy."

There was an undeniable grunt from Sam as he pushed the door open while grumbling something Dean could only decipher as annoyance. With one last look back at his brother; Dean hurried across the muddy ground until he was up the cement steps and under the protection of the porch.

"Hurry up Sammy!" Dean yelled out to the tall figure perched over the trunk of the Impala. Dean suddenly wished he'd been lazy enough to put their bags on the backseat rather than with their mass of weapons in the back.

"I'm coming," came the annoyed reply.

In a few short strides Sam was standing beside his brother. He dropped the bags carelessly and shook out his hair ignoring the dog comment Dean shot him.

"Have you knocked yet?"

Dean shrugged and an eyebrow rose. "Are you even supposed to ring when you're at a hotel?"

Sam looked at the green door, doubt filling him. There wasn't a sign… not that he was paying attention when Dean drove up here, he'd been half-asleep after all. "Is this even a hotel?"

Another shrug.

Dean's fist met the wooden door a few times and the knocking resounded sharply. "Anybody here?"

"Jesus Dean, everybody is probably asleep!"

"They aren't anymore now are they Sammy-boy."

The two bickered, unaware of the front door opening.

"Can I help you?" a deep voice asked. The brothers were instantly quiet; Dean smiled at the old man and prodded Sam in the side prompting the young man to speak.

"Uh yeah," Sam began as he slapped Dean's hand away from his side. "This is a hotel right?"

The man smiled slightly and shook his head. "I'm afraid you've come across the Ives plantation."

Sam sighed in irritation and turned to glare at his brother who was looking rather sheepish.

"Er… sorry?" Dean winced at the look Sam shot him.

The younger brother turned back to the older man and held out his hand. "Well thanks anyway. Sorry for waking you, my brother must have been mistaken when he told me that this was an inn."

The man smiled again. "It's no trouble really. You boy's been traveling out in the rain all this time?"

Dean nodded and looked back to the wet droplets in disgust. "It just won't let up."

"You know, I have some friends over young lads and I wouldn't mind housing a few more tonight…"

"Oh we couldn't," Sam turned down the offer.

Dean looked at his brother incredulously. "But since your offering, we'd be more than grateful to accept."

Sam mumbled something unintelligible again as the man took both him and Dean by the elbow and guided them inside.

Once the door was shut the man let out an approved sound and smiled back at his guests. "Oh my, we haven't even been properly introduced." He stuck out his hand in greeting, "I'm Grant Ives and this is my plantation."

Sam took the hand and shook it. "I'm Sam Wi…"

"Wiggins," Dean shot in. "He's Sam and I'm Dean."

Once they were done with the introductions, they moved into the den where a fire was alit in the fireplace.

"You're my hero," Dean chimed as he sat on a plush couch next to the fire.

Grant laughed heartily at Dean's enthusiasm. "So where're you young lads headed?"

Sam shifted slightly, "Nowhere really. We're just road tripping."

"I see."

As Dean and Grant spoke, Sam's eyes trailed over the well furnished room curiously. "So where're your other guests?" He interrupted.

Grant became tightlipped for a moment. "It's late; they've probably made their way to the rooms already. I'm sure you'll be able to meet them then."

Sam bobbed his head up and down, seeming to accept the answer. "If you don't mind, it's been a long drive and I'm not feeling very well."

"Oh of course," Grant agreed as he got back to his feet.

Dean shot Sam a dirty then and clambered to his own feet.

"Right this way boy's." Grant led the two up some stairs and into a long, red carpeted hallway that was lit by only a few light bulbs that were spaced every few feet apart. "Ah," Grant breathed in approval as they came to one cream colored door. "This one is Sam's," Grant pushed open the door to reveal a long bed in the middle of the room.

Sam rolled his eyes when he heard Dean laugh as they both caught sight of the mass of tiny figurines covering shelves to the side of the bed.

"Cute," Dean murmured sarcastically. "You'll love it here Sammy."

"Dean," Grant spoke to get the older brother's attention. "Your room is right across the hall." He pointed at a light blue door directly across from Sam's.

"Well if that's all, I should retire for the night as well," Grant said with a toothy smile. With that, he left the room and left the two brothers by themselves.

Dean walked to the door. "I guess I'll go to bed too. Are you going to be alright?"

Sam scowled at his brother. "Yes mother," he mimicked a child's voice.

Dean raised an amused eyebrow. "Night Sammy."

The door clicked shut softly and Sam listened until he heard Dean's own door open and then click shut. He sighed and looked around the room again, he walked over to the shelves and observed that figurines with soft laugh.

The entire shelf was filled with porcelain trolls. "Good god," Sam laughed as picked up the ugliest one and looked at it. "I can't believe people actually collect this stuff." He set the doll back down and sat down on the bed.

Sam kicked off his shoes while wondering if Dean's room had strange trinkets too. He lay down and stared up at the ceiling, willing sleep to claim him once again.

He fell asleep, unaware of the many sets of eyes staring back at him.

* * *

TBC...


	2. Broken Toys

Hey everyone! Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up... I guess I've been kinda lazy

But thanks for the sweet reviews from the first chapter, I'm glad that I gauged some people's interest and I hope this chapter doesn't dissapoint!

Enjoy:

* * *

The morning came quickly for Sam. He was irritated that he'd awoken so early and tried to relax and let sleep take him again, but it seemed his body wouldn't allow him that privilege. His restlessness finally led to him climbing from the warm sheets he'd been previously cocooned in to look around in the morning sunlight.

The walls were cream colored, just like his door and his bed dominated the room as if it had been made to fit Sam. He was secretly grateful that the bed could host his lanky legs that always seemed to be longer than the bed itself.

Enough teasing from Dean over the years had caused him enough grief as it was. It wasn't his fault he'd been blessed with the growth spurt.

Sam allowed himself a small smile as he remembered how Dean had accused Sam of stealing his older brother's growth spurt.

After becoming bored of the cramped space, Sam left his room to see if his older brother was awake yet. When he pushed open the door he was a bit disappointed to see his brother sprawled out across the plush mattress with his mouth hanging open and snores flittering across the walls.

The younger Winchester made his way back into his room and decided to explore the room a while longer. Since nothing seemed to gain his attention, his escapade around the room finally brought him back to the shelves holding the mass of porcelain trolls.

Sam smiled and shook his head, still not really believing that these trinkets were worth collecting. A shiver raced up his spine causing him to drop the porcelain troll he was holding. "Shit!" he cussed as the troll hit the hardwood floor, making that one sound that something precious could make as it shattered.

Sam reached down and picked the ugly figurine up, wincing at its huge nose and wrinkled face. Then, he began inspecting the little figurine for damage. The red cap it wore on its head looked more to be someone's old sock, while the rags for a shirt and pair of pants looked worn and ripped. It wasn't until Sam looked down at the feet did he realize something it was missing.

"Oh man," he muttered softly when he realized that one of the troll's feet was missing. Sam's eyes shot back to floor as he began searching for the missing piece of porcelain.

Sam sighed regretfully as he spotted the chunk of porcelain lying against his left foot. He leaned down and picked it up, fighting to hold the curse wanting to erupt for his carelessness.

After all, he knew that people who lived alone often collected things to keep themselves from going crazy with loneliness. He remembered the cat lady who lived down the street in Belmont, Wisconsin. She was nice and baked Dean and him cookies, but the two had often joked about the great amount of cats she owned.

Sam told himself that he would tell Grant later and hoped the man wouldn't be devastated or think that the brother's were ungrateful for the old mans graciousness. He sighed again and placed the two pieces of porcelain back on the shelf.

At least they'd be leaving that day so he wouldn't have to deal with the creepy figurines staring at him again. That was definitely enough for him to go sleep in his brother's room… if his older brother wouldn't tease him till the end of time because of it. He could see his brother now, _"You're seriously afraid of a few collectable trolls? Ooh does Sammy need a hug from his big brother?"_

Sam shook off the 'could be' of his life and sat back down on the bed, the mattress sinking down to accompany the added weight. He knew distantly that Dean wouldn't be up for a while and decided to get a small nap before they hit the road again.

He lay back on the plush bed and stared back at the ceiling until his eyes became heavy and his eyelids dropped back down to his cheeks and he was left to sleep once again.

* * *

"Wakey, wakey princess Samantha," the familiar voice teased from above Sam. 

Sam was pulled from his peacful sleep and moaned then cracked an eye open to glare up at his big brother who was grinning mischieviously back at him. Rolling his eyes, Sam flipped over onto his other side and pushed his head deeper into the plush pillow. "Go 'way Dean."

Dean laughed, amusement coating the sound. "No can do Sammy, we've slept in long enough besides, this place is giving me the heebee jeebies."

The younger Winchester grunted as he sat up and lifted his hand and raked it through his brown mop of hair. He let out a big yawn and pushed himself to the edge of the bed until his feet rested against the bare floor.

"These are just creepy," Dean frowned as looked upon the many blank faces staring at him.

Sam laughed softly. "You don't need to tell me that. They've just been staring at me…"

"What happened to this one?" Dean asked as he lifted the one Sam had dropped earlier. The older brother stared down at the missing foot and raised an eyebrow to his clearly guilty looking brother.

"I accidentally dropped it, okay? Quit giving me the 8th degree."

"I wasn't accusing you," Dean said exasperatedly as he set the figurine back on its spot in front of the other little trolls.

"Let's just get our stuff and go," Sam suggested, quickly putting on his shoes and stuffing his dirty clothes into his duffel.

Dean nodded and followed his brother out the door. "So…"

"What?"

"You're not going to tell old man creeper you broke his doll?"

"It's a _figurine_," Sam corrected as he walked down the stairs leading to the first floor.

Dean rolled his eyes as he shouldered his own duffel to get a better hold on it. "Oh I'm sorry, I meant, are you going to tell old man creeper you broke his _figurine_."

Sam shrugged and shook his head. "I was going to… but if we're leaving, I don't know if I should."

"Well hello boy's," Grant Ives rich voice interrupted their conversation from the bottom of the landing.

Both boys smiled fakely as they moved to meet the older man.

"Did you sleep well?" Grant asked thoughtfully as he led the Winchester's into his large kitchen area.

"Yes," Both boys replied simultaneously.

"Very good," Grant approved. "I'm sure you both are starving, help yourselves."

Sam had to take hold of Dean's leather clad arm to keep the older brother from tearing open the fridge and devouring everything it held.

"What?" Dean asked innocently as he swatted Sam's hand away from his arm.

"We really should get going," Sam muttered in fake apologetics.

The look on Grant's face showed that he thought otherwise.

Dean must have caught the look too because he moved to stand next to his brother. "Yeah, we really should get going... you know, long day ahead of us and all."

Grant nodded as if he understood and he smiled widely. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave boy's," he told them, still smiling brightly.

The hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood on end as his brow furrowed in confusion. "Excuse me?"

The older man shook his head and went to the window. "You see, it's starting to rain and I heard on the radio that it is supposed to be a worse storm than last night."

This time Sam walked forward to announce his own confusion. "That can't be possible it was sunny out earlier..." Sam walked to the backdoor at the end of the kitchen and turned the knob, pulling it harshly so that it flew open to crash against the kitchen wall.

The younger Winchester stared numbly at the dark sky, his eyes catching a yellow zig-zag in the corner of his eye.

Sam took in a long breath through his nose and sighed. It hadn't yet begun to rain, but you could smell the ozone and the little drops would soon begin to cascade down from the grey clouds.

Dean walked forward and clapped his brother on the shoulder.

"Maybe we can still get out of here Dean, I mean it hasn't even begun raining..."

"Sam," Dean began with a sigh. "The ground is made of dirt and it damn near flood last night, the Impala is probably still stuck in the mud pit where I left it."

Sam deflated a little at that. This place gave him a bad feeling and he knew Dean had one too, but neither would mention it to the other for fear of being right. "So we're staying here?"

"Guess so."

The brother's turned back around to the house owner who was smiling a little too jovially for Sam's liking.

"How would you boy's like something to eat?"

* * *

TBC... 


End file.
